


Customs

by naboru



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Aftercare, Comedy, Light Masochism, M/M, Smut, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Violence/Damage in a Consensual erotic Context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: Altihex’ customs make Vortex’ life harder than needed. There’s a crime that is none, and Blast Off helps in more than one way.Continuity:G1 Dysfunction AU, pre-warNote:Contains hints toBlast Off and Vortex Go To Vos, but can be understood without knowing the fic.





	Customs

**Author's Note:**

> **Characters/Pairings:** Vortex, Blast Off, Blast Off/Vortex  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

Vortex stood in the queue for on-planet arrivals at Altihex airport, and waited.

It seemed that customs were taking longer than usual, but it was probably because he was tired.

He hadn’t had a chance to get any decent recharge or a defrag for three cycles. The off-planet trip he was here for had been planned over three orns ago, and Vortex could have lived without his mission in Iacon turning into a mess.

Taking one small step forward in queue, Vortex suppressed his building sigh.

He was looking forward to Blast Off’s flight deck and the comfortable chairs. Hopefully the shuttle would be in a good mood, and wouldn’t banish him to the cargo hold. He hadn’t done anything that could have ticked him off, so that shouldn’t be an issue. But it was Blast Off, and you never knew.

Another small step forward, and finally Vortex could hear the voices of Altihex’ custom officers.

Having flown with Blast Off for so long, Vortex had almost forgotten how annoying regular flights were. With Blast Off they usually were through customs in no time.

Vortex had needed to check everything on him, making sure that there was no energon lingering on his frame, changing his weapons back to civilian grade, and he even went through the belongings hidden under his plating.

He felt weird without his laser scalpels.

Onslaught had assured him he’d sent some with Blast Off to Altihex when the shuttle had left Kaon a few cycles ago. Vortex was looking forward to arming himself up again.

“Sir,” Vortex was addressed and waved towards one of the customs booths where two shuttleformers waited.

He nodded and crossed the short distance. Finally he was about to get out of here.

“Good afternoon,” one of the shuttles said. Neither of them looked familiar to Vortex, and with another nod, he handed over his datapad.

“Are you visiting anyone here?”

Vortex shook his head. “No. I’m changing rides to off-world travel.”

The shuttle with his datapad gave a minute nod. “What is your connecting flight number?”

At that, Vortex’s optics almost flickered. He didn’t know. “It’s a private flight,” he said. Blast Off usually took care of those things, sometimes Onslaught.

“I see. These flights also have a flight number. So, you don’t know it?”

Vortex frowned behind his visor. Why couldn’t they just wave him through? “The shuttle’s name is Blast Off. We’re heading to Unchurn.” That should be enough information for the customs officers to figure out the flight number.

“For what reason are you flying to Unchurn,” the second shuttle wanted to know. Her expression was stern as she took the datapad the other gave her.

With the air buzzing around him, Vortex knew they were talking over comm. “For business,” he replied.

“What kind of business?” It was the first shuttle again, the femme looking at the pad.

“Resource negotiations for OnsCorp’s research projects.” It couldn’t hurt to drop his employer’s name, Vortex thought. OnsCorp owned some of the Altihex Space Port shares, so maybe they’d let him through now.

“What is your part in it?”

“I’m a consultant,” Vortex replied with his usual answer.

His frown deepened when the femme vanished through the door at the edge of the booth, Vortex’ datapad still in hand.

What was going on here?

“Please wait a moment.” The remaining shuttle stepped behind Vortex, crossing his arms over his chest. The way out of the booth was blocked now. And no one could look inside… If Vortex attacked the shuttle, no one would see it.

He gave the booth a quick assessment, then the shuttle. 

Too many cameras and no appropriate weapon. Why did he have to leave his laser scalpels behind?

Vortex glared, his blunt fingers itching to transform into claws. This had to do with his caste. He bet alphas were never questioned like that. Checking his chronometer, he prevented himself from yet uttering another sigh.

He opened a private comm to Blast Off.

//Hey, Thrusters,// he began when Blast Off opened the line. The reception was bad, there was crackling as though Blast Off was in the air. //I’m stuck in customs, where are you?//

//I’m waiting outside near the arrivals gate.// Blast Off’s voice was blank, obscured by static. //What do they want?//

//Nothing, I think. They’re just stalling.//

//I see.// There was a pause, then Blast Off continued with the underlying tone Vortex knew meant he was annoyed. //Who are they? Do you have their names?//

//They didn’t tell me. I can send you pictures?//

//Do that. I see what I can do.//

Vortex allowed himself a grin. His battle mask hid it. He could always count on Blast Off’s impatience with airport employees.

Choosing a shot from his memory banks featuring both of the custom officers, he initiated a data transfer.

Blast Off accepted, but the transfer was cancelled halfway because of bad reception.

//What happened?// Vortex’ own annoyance grew.

//You’re too close to the Detention Area, the connection is bad.// Blast Off didn’t sound pleased. //Try again.//

Vortex did.

Again Blast Off accepted, and the transfer began. It was that moment that the femme returned.

“Please follow me.”

Vortex nodded, but didn’t move. He wanted to wait just a short moment until the upload was done.

“Go,” the shuttle blocking the booth ordered, stepping close and pushing him towards the door.

“Okay, okay,” Vortex muttered. //They’re taking me somewhere. What’s behind the customs area?//

Vortex stepped through the door.

The picture upload failed again, and the comm-line to Blast Off died in an unpleasant burst of static.

Frag, just what Vortex needed.

He followed the femme through bleak, sterile corridors until he was ordered to sit down on a bench by the wall. Several other people sat there, looking as tired as Vortex felt.

How the slag did he happen to end up here? He was suave, able to read and manipulate people, he shouldn’t get in trouble with stupid customs officers.

Sitting down, Vortex finally let himself vent that sigh.

His comms were dead, blocked by whatever sophisticated device they had in Altihex. All he could do while waiting was go over the conversation he’d had with the two shuttles and figure out what had gone wrong.

Only there wasn’t anything. Nothing he could tell. He hadn’t acted suspiciously, he didn’t have any illegal hardware on him, and the papers on the pad had been clear. Onslaught had looked over them after Vortex had completed them.

Even his destination wasn’t any prohibited planet. Cybertron was on good terms with Unchurn.

Dimming his optics, Vortex leant against the wall and waited.

\---

The people waiting with him were called into a room one after another. Vortex kept track of how long they were in there, and it ranged from a few kliks to several breems.

Every one of them was allowed to leave after they had left the room. Vortex just wanted to get it over with.

After he’d sat down, two more people showed up, and they were called in earlier than him.

Slowly, Vortex began to doubt he’d be able to leave anytime soon.

Three joors had passed since he’d been led into the corridor, and the lack of recharge was catching up on him.

He didn’t dare take his optics offline, or even relax his joints. He needed to appear alert and awake, and not show any weakness the customs officers might use against him.

It would have all been less annoying if Vortex at least knew what was going on.

“Gamma class rotary aiframe Vortex!” a stern voice announced loudly, and Vortex looked up at the door.

But the door everyone else had gone through was closed. Glancing further down the hallway, the heliformer saw someone leaning out of another room. The door didn’t have a window like the other, and looked less inviting.

Frag everything.

Vortex stood up. He pushed all his fatigue to the back of his processor, and tried to keep his mind sharp. It was harder than usual, because he felt the exhaustion scratching at his focus.

The room had a desk with a computer console on it. The shuttleformer, someone else than before, sat down behind it and pointed at the chair in front of the desk.

With a brief nod, Vortex took the seat.

“Your designation is Vortex?”

“Yes.”

The shuttle nodded, and held out a datapad to him. “Is this information correct?”

Vortex leant closer. He skimmed over his registration number and date of construction, and gave a brief nod. “Yeah.”

“Thank you,” the shuttle said without introducing himself. He typed something on the console. “Your reason for being in Altihex?”

“I already told your colleagues,” Vortex said, but repeated his answer. “I’m here to catch my connecting flight.”

More typing, then a nod. “Flight where to?”

“Unchurn. The shuttle’s name is Blast Off.”

The custom officer looked at his screen for a klik, then two. His face was unmoving, but it wasn’t like the blankness from Blast Off. This mech was simply trying not to give anything away, while that was simply Blast Off’s natural state of being.

“There is no scheduled flight to Unchurn today.”

Vortex frowned, and once again he was glad for his visor. His exhaustion made it more difficult to keep his body from reacting. It probably wouldn’t have been too bad if the last three cycles hadn’t been so troublesome already. As if the normal bribery-rich negotiations with Iacon’s police weren’t annoying enough, the bomb that a third party planted had literally blown up their talks. Vortex had managed to hunt the culprit down, but he had refused to tell who had paid him, so he’d sent the guy’s memory banks to Onslaught. At least Vortex could leave the planet and let someone else with the Iacon Police now.

“I’m sure there’s been a mistake.” Vortex shuffled his rotor blades slightly. The back of the chair wasn’t meant for rotaries. “We might be taking another route rather than flying straight there. I’m sure Blast Off could clear that up. You could ask him. He’s waiting for me at the arrivals gate.” Vortex kept his voice calm, even though his fingers itched with the need to transform them to claws and dig them deep into the other’s optics.

“So, you don’t know the route of your flight?”

What kind of question was that? He wasn’t a shuttle, for frag’s sake. He had no idea about space routes and this slag. He resisted snapping something sarcastic, and answered as calm as before. “I’m not an expert in space travel. My relationship to it is limited to being a passenger, not a pilot.”

There couldn’t be anything wrong about his answer, and yet the shuttle just kept staring.

“You are ex-military.”

“Yes.”

The shuttle nodded. “You’re still wearing your military paintjob.”

Just in time Vortex stopped himself from rebooting his optics. How was that important now? “I am.”

Vortex just wanted to leave now. He was tired, and annoyed. He’d played along their stupid game where they exercised their authority over an ‘inferior’ frametype, and he still wasn’t free to leave. If Vortex wasn’t so exhausted, he would have played his own game. But deep down he knew that his methods wouldn’t get him anywhere with Altihex personnel, not if he didn’t want Blast Off to wait any longer, or give the shuttle a reason to ban him to the cargo hold.

“Why did you keep your paintjob?”

“I like it?” This time some of his impatience and annoyance entered his voice. He scolded himself for it. He needed to be more careful.

“Are your weapons functional?” the shuttle asked, typing again.

“They are civilian grade and registered. I’m allowed to carry them.” If it was all about his weapons, why didn’t they say so in the first place?

“So yes, then.” The customs officer wrote, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard, and from his tone Vortex knew it wasn’t about the weapons.

“You were with Blast Off at the Vos air show this last quarter vorn?”

Frag. All the remaining focus that Vortex had suddenly pushed the exhaustion away. He went through his memory files of said event, of their activities there, and how the authorities didn’t have any evidence.

Had they found something new? Could he and Blast Off be connected with the murder of Senator Valance?

“Yes, we were.” There was no point in lying. Vos’ police had it on file from their interrogations.

“And you were intimate?”

That had been their alibi. A recoding of them interfacing, and that, too, was something the police knew.

“Yes.” Vortex felt uneasiness crawling through his circuits. He had the urge to contact Blast Off. Maybe they had the shuttle in another room, questioning him about it all again, too.

Blast Off would be so fragged off…

“Who paid for your hotel room during the show?” the officer asked, and it was another question that took Vortex off guard. He kept his rotors from twitching and his voice even.

“OnsCorp.” The name of the company hopefully would make the shuttle come to his senses.

“There are records that show Blast Off paid for it.”

How did they get those records? “Yes. He paid for it beforehand, but he got paid back by OnsCorp after his travel expense report. It’s the normal procedure.” Well, sometimes it was. When Blast Off could use his connections to get certain rooms in certain hotels that were booked up for example.

“I see. And you and he shared a room?”

“Yes.” Again, there was no point in lying. “I was there for a job, too. I’m a consultant. I told your colleagues.”

“ _Consultant_.” The shuttle pronounced the word with the weirdest voice that made Vortex suspicious. He didn’t dare ask anything, not now when he knew he was in deep slag, but didn’t know exactly what slag, or how deep it was.

“When was the last time you had a repaint?” The shuttle looked from his console at Vortex and eyed him up.

Why were they back at his appearance now?

Vortex shrugged. “I patched my paintjob up yesterday.”

“That wasn’t the question. When did you get a repaint? A full repaint?”

“I… why is that important?” Okay, this was taking a weird turn, and didn’t help to clear Vortex’ confusion. He was half tempted to lean forward and flare his energy field, asking the officer what colour he would like to see Vortex wearing. He resisted. It wouldn’t help him this time, not with this mech in this situation.

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know. Maybe a vorn ago.” He’d worn a blue paintjob for a few cycles.

“What colour?”

“Blue.”

“Did you get the repaint for Blast Off?”

At that, the signals for the confused flickering of optics were faster than Vortex’ self-restraint. “So what if I did?”

The shuttle in front of Vortex gave a slow nod and went back to typing quickly.

It was when Blast Off had moved and Vortex had found out he liked blue. He’d needed to find a way to make Blast Off stop ignoring him for reasons Vortex still didn’t understand. It had helped back then.

The shuttleformer sighed deeply. Then his frame tensed, as if he was bracing for something.

“So, if you had the repaint for only a short time I take it you are specialised in military fetish?”

What followed was one of the rare moments in which Vortex was speechless.

“I what?” he eventually asked, but he continued before the other could reply. “Military fetish? As in military operations, then yes.”

“That was not what I meant. I mean fetishes of the more intimate nature.” The shuttle stared at him, and Vortex could just stare back for a moment.

Suddenly, this all made more sense – sort of.

“I’m not a prostitute?” Vortex said, his statement a question out of confusion. It wasn’t like he’d be ashamed, or condemn the people working in the business, but _he_ didn’t work in the field. How did they get the impression he was anyway?

“We discovered that Blast Off, well,” the mech paused again and vented, “That he spent quite a lot of money to keep you out of prison. That, together with lying about the connecting flight leaves the question why you are in Altihex.”

“There _is_ a connecting flight,” Vortex insisted. “And he merely lent me the money, I still owe it to him. You can ask him about it, he’ll tell you the same.”

“I’m sure he will.” The shuttle didn’t sound convinced. “We do not tolerate prostitution in Altihex. So, what is your relationship with Blast Off?”

Vortex tried to stay calm and collected, but this was getting ridiculous and grating. How could Altihex be so uptight? “We’re colleagues.”

The officer stared.

“With benefits,” Vortex added. Vector Sigma, why was that so hard to understand?

“Right…” With a condescending huff, the shuttle worked on the console again for some time, not speaking.

“We _are_ just colleagues,” Vortex said again. He wanted out, and recharge, and he felt how it became harder every passing moment to keep his rotor blades from twitching. “We both work for OnsCorp. Feel free to ask Onslaught about us.” He was getting a headache from this nonsense.

“Of course,” the shuttle laughed without joy. “And he would have time for such a petty question?”

“I can fraggin’ give you his private frequency if that’d help!” Vortex spat without thinking, but controlling his rotors and his urge to rip out the other’s laser core required most of his self-control. His patience had long since run out, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost his cool like that.

“So… you have his private frequency? Is he another customer of yours?” The shuttle twisted the words like Vortex usually did.

If he just hadn’t been so fraggin’ tired. It was like all his experiences were next to nought right now. And the fact that he had no idea how to deal with Altihex’ officers didn’t help. Why were the city state’s inhabitants so slaggin’ aloof?

“He’s my boss, I work for him. I’m a consultant. I’m _his_ consultant.”

“You mentioned that already. Do you have other customers?”

“Oh for frag’s sake!” Vortex was about to lose not just his cool, but also his last bit of restraint. He forced himself with all that remained of his focus to calm down again. His voice was less annoyed when he continued. “There are other people who can verify that I am not a prostitute and not acting against Altihex’ laws; that me and Blast Off merely have a business relationship.”

“With benefits.” The officer sounded way too smug for Vortex’ taste, but he stopped himself from saying anything more. He let the shuttle type and struggled not to slump.

If Vortex got banned from Altihex because of this, Onslaught would be so fragged off. Not to mention Blast Off… Right now, Vortex would have loved to have just crawled onto a berth and fallen asleep.

Brawl often got into this kind of situation. And Swindle, because of his big mouth, but Vortex was the person who got them out again. It wasn’t fair that this was happening now of all times with Blast Off waiting outside. When this was over, there would be so much ignoring on Blast Off’s part, Vortex just knew it.

A knock on the door made the shuttle flinch, and Vortex tensed. He hid it as well as he could, and followed the officer with his optics as he stepped to the door. A few soft words were spoken, but Vortex couldn’t make them out, and the shuttle stepped out completely.

As soon as the door was closed, Vortex allowed himself to relax and slump. He knew the cameras were still watching, but he just hadn’t any focus left.

Now he began to understand Blast Off after a long trip in space, when he was tired and his guard slipped.

Four breems passed in which no one looked in on Vortex. He was tempted to get up and have a look at the screen of the console, but it was very dim. The shuttle had probably locked it, and he didn’t have the patience trying to hack it right now. Plus, there were the cameras. 

Shuffling on the chair, Vortex rotated his blades up and revved his engine. This stupid chair was so uncomfortable. His hub was aching in an uncomfortable way, and it did nothing to keep the headache from increasing. If it wasn’t for the headache and the irritating ache in his hub, Vortex mused, he might have fallen asleep…

Leaning back, he looked at the camera and stared. Maybe it would make the person on the other end uncomfortable. Stupid shuttles, all of them.

\---

Vortex had stopped checking his chronometer, and he didn’t know how long he’d been stuck in customs when the door opened again.

He managed to keep himself from flinching, and his rotors didn’t twitch. He also didn’t turn his head to look.

“Gamma class rotary airframe Vortex,” someone said, and it was yet another new voice. “You’re free to go.”

Vortex’ optics flickered. Thankfully, no one saw it except for the camera.

He didn’t give them the satisfaction of jumping out of the chair and running out, even though he felt like it. Vortex got to his feet slowly, turning slowly, and walked out with rotors high up and head straight.

“Follow me, please.” The mech sounded less stoic and more friendly than any of the others.

Finally someone had seen reason, it seemed.

Vortex walked along the hallways without trying to memorising them. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to go back here ever again. He’d spent enough time there for the rest of his existence.

Even before they reached a room that looked like an entry hall, Vortex heard a familiar voice in a familiar tone. It took every last gram of his willpower not to run and glomp Blast Off.

Vortex guessed the shuttle wouldn’t welcome the gesture while he was talking to the femme and the officer that had accused him of prostitution, and from what Vortex heard, it was a good… talking-to.

That thought made him grin, and when he heard what Blast Off was saying, that grin grew even more.

“I hope you realise what you did. OnsCorp is a shareholder of the space port, and you just accused one of its employees of an administrative offence.” The shuttle’s voice wasn’t loud, but there was the familiar sternness and mercilessness that made Vortex pleasantly shiver.

Through Vortex’ rotors ran a quiver. Blast Off was all authority and dominance, and he wasn’t done yet.

“And you not only accused my colleague for absolutely no reason, you also looked into private financial accounts without a warrant. Not to mention you made us miss our take off window.” Blast Off’s engine gave a deep rumble. “I will demand a refund for not only the administrative fees for the private take off window, but also the time that myself and my colleague had to spend here. If any of you still have a job after today, you should be grateful.” Blast Off’s visor glowed bright in anger, and it was just now that he looked at Vortex. “We’re going.”

The shuttle turned, and stomped out. Vortex followed but not without flicking his rotors in an obscene gesture at the custom office employees.

\---

Vortex walked close to Blast Off. Closer than the shuttle probably wanted, but he tolerated it for now and didn’t shoo Vortex away.

Vortex was glad of it. He’d had a couple of bad days now, and Blast Off was this strong, solid bulk of metal that kept him from flipping completely.

“Horizon isn’t in Altihex for the next decacycle. We’re going to stay at a hotel for the next two nights. I couldn’t get a take-off window any earlier,” Blast Off said blankly, but his energy field betrayed his irritated state of mind.

Vortex nodded. “I’ll pay this time,” he said, and he knew Blast Off realised why he did so. The shuttle didn’t mention it. Vortex would probably regret wanting to pay, because he knew Blast Off’s taste in hotels, but right then he didn’t care.

He also didn’t care about his rotor blades twitching. There was no self-control left to hinder them.

“Why did they say there was no flight to Unchurn today?” Vortex asked, trying to get a conversation going. He needed distraction.

Blast Off shrugged, turning down another street. “I had to change the route yesterday,” he explained. “A neutron star had…” He looked down at Vortex and shook his head minutely. “It doesn’t matter. I had to change it. We’re going to Errouthan instead and then by space bridge to Unchurn. I had no chance to tell you. Onslaught ordered radio silence while you were in Iacon.”

Vortex gave a nod, and then his rotors twitched again when the hotel Blast Off had chosen came into few.

It was only a breem from the space port, and by the look of it, it was an alpha-class hotel.

Under his visor, Vortex glanced up at Blast Off. He really hoped he had enough in his account left for this. At least he knew Ons would give it back… at the end of the quartex.

Vortex suppressed a sigh.

\---

Vortex slouched on one of the couches in the hotel lobby.

Blast Off was at the reception and taking care of their room.

It was good that the shuttle did so, Vortex didn’t think they’d listen to him when this fancy hotel looked like a pure alpha caste establishment.

Vortex tried very hard not to think about his account and how little he’d have left after he paid…

Opposite him, a few couches and chairs away, were two femmes. One was also a shuttle, and it looked like they’d had a heated argument. They were probably a couple the way the taller one touched the other’s shoulder.

Vortex grinned.

He could go over there and pretend he knew the shuttle femme, cause some more relationship trouble. It would be nice to watch… But it also meant he would have to get up and talk to them and that seemed too much of an effort right now.

Glancing back through the gap of his twitching rotors, he saw Blast Off still talking to the receptionist.

Of course, when Vortex was tired and wanted recharge, he could wait, but woe betide someone made Blast Off wait when he was exhausted.

Vortex turned his optics back to the couple. They were hugging now. The heliformer huffed. He should have gone to them and had some fun when he had the chance.

He slid down a little further. He still could go to the two femmes and mess with them, he thought.

“Don’t.” A hand closed around a twitching rotor and it was the touch that made Vortex almost jump. Almost. He managed to reduce his reaction to a flinch.

Turning his head, he looked up from beneath at Blast Off looming, unrelenting, and his hand firm around the blade, keeping it from moving.

“I didn’t do anything,” Vortex said, trying to appear innocent. It still amazed him how Blast Off could sneak up on him like that.

“But you thought about it. I know that look.” The shuttle’s hand never left the rotor, making Vortex relax without realising. “I managed to book a room. Come.” Only now Blast Off let go and walked past the couches and chairs of the lobby towards the elevator.

Vortex allowed himself a moment to watch Blast Off’s backside, the black ceramic tiles, the strong thighs, and wings on the lower legs moving oh so slightly with each step – until they stopped. The shuttle turned again, the visor brighter than before but his tone wasn’t angry when he spoke. 

“Vortex.”

Just a single word in a voice that made the heliformer get to his feet within astroseconds and catch up to Blast Off.

\---

Their room was just how Vortex expected it to be for an alpha caste hotel. Huge, with a huge berth and fancy furniture. The panoramic window gave a good view over the city making it feel almost like Blast Off’s apartment.

Vortex didn’t go to see how the washracks looked, he only had optics for the berth.

He collapsed on it, face first into the soft mattress, and heaved air in a relieved sigh through his side vents.

Finally he could recharge.

Just that he couldn’t.

He was tense; his rotors twitched every few astroseconds and sent a tremor through his entire frame. He was restless and annoyed, and it didn’t help that Blast Off was with him.

Vortex turned his head slightly, one optic free to see Blast Off going to the minibar. Sure, he said he was paying for the room, but Vortex still hoped the shuttle wouldn’t choose the most expensive drinks.

“Get up,” Blast Off said, his tone leaving no room for complaints.

Vortex obeyed before he even realised. Back on his feet, he went to Blast Off and took the cube the shuttle handed to him.

“Drink.”

Vortex nodded, and sipped. It was normal energon, and while he’d rather have had high grade, he didn’t protest. He couldn’t with Blast Off radiating that aura that made him submit to every order and demand. He couldn’t help himself when the shuttle’s voice was like that, when he stared down at Vortex with that exact expression.

Rotors blades twitched and Vortex’ circuits screamed with the familiar numb agony from lack of input.

“Whatever is wrong?” Blast Off asked, but it wasn’t said with concern.

Vortex shrugged, and emptied his cube as not having to answer right away. “Nothing,” he muttered when he was done.

The shuttle’s engine rumbled, a deep sound that was almost tangible, and Blast Off stepped closer. A large black hand wrapped around Vortex’ smaller one, the one that held the empty cube, and squeezed.

The cube broke, fragments raining to the floor or dug into the seams of Vortex’ fingers, cutting thin energon lines. With his other hand, Blast Off reached for Vortex’ throat, gripping tight, fingers worming their way between cables.

Vortex uttered a whimper, pain receptors in his hand shooting signals all the way to his interface panel, and caused his field to flare.

“Don’t lie to me,” Blast Off said, his voice not threatening but as steady and firm as his grip. He forced Vortex to take a step back, then again, and yet another until his rotor hub met the wall behind him. The shuttle dug further into his throat, almost reaching the vocaliser.

Vortex gasped.

“I asked you a question. I expect an honest answer.” Blast Off didn’t raise his voice, didn’t change the tone, and it still made Vortex shiver.

The constant twitching of rotors morphed into a frantic quivering.

“Tired,” Vortex replied, static ringing with the word from pressure on his vocal circuitry. “Just tired.” And needy, almost desperate for what Blast Off could do.

Vortex saw Blast Off raising an optical ridge. “Just tired? Only that? After being stuck in customs for joors? After being on the job for days without rest?”

Vortex nodded as well as he could with the tight grip on his throat.

“Don’t lie to me,” Blast Off said again with this calm, demanding manner that made Vortex’ legs weak.

“I-“ Vortex began and was cut off when Blast Off moved him, turned him, twisted his arm behind his back under his rotor hub. His fingers dug still between throat cables, now deep enough to brush roughly over his vocaliser.

Blast Off’s engine revved, rotors rattled against the shuttle’s chest with the vibrations, sending them into every part of Vortex’ body, and the ‘copter couldn’t stop the gargled moan when Blast Off’s voice was so close to his audials.

“If you can’t tell the truth, then don’t speak at all. Do you understand?”

Vortex gave another brief nod, almost unnoticeable with his head movement restricted like that.

“Answer the question.” Blast Off’s engine was rumbling softly at a higher setting than normal. Vibrations travelled into the rotor hub already sore from the uncomfortable chair. It turned the ache into something better, pain that increased every sensation along his rotors.

“Tired,” Vortex repeated, choking the word out. “Frustrated, an-gah” but whatever he’d wanted to add was drowned out by a needy whine as Blast Off squeezed his hand even tighter. A joint broke and more lines were cut. Energon was warm on Vortex’ palm when it flowed down.

The sound of it dripping to the floor was hard to hear under the constant low rumble of the strong shuttle engine.

“What do you want me to do?” A teasing note had entered Blast Off’s tone, but Vortex didn’t care.

Blast Off was helping already, and the shuttle knew. But there was no way of not replying, not with the shuttle being like that, demanding an answer with this calm, collected voice.

“Rotor hub,” Vortex gasped, and his field flared hotly. Just the image made his engine rev hard.

“Rotor hub?” Blast Off asked. “Like that?” He let go of the damaged limb, his large hand wrapping around the sore hub instead. Wet energon registered on sensor nodes before pressure overlay everything and turned into pain.

Vortex moaned. His cooling fans switched on. He hadn’t realised how hot his frame had become, and how needy and urgent his signature flared against Blast Off’s frame. The shuttle pushed the ‘copter’s field back, his own rasping hard against Vortex’.

Blast Off was in charge, there was no doubt, and Vortex would never want to change it.

Not with the pain taking away the frustration, turning anger into arousal.

“More,” Vortex groaned, uttering the word without realising and aching into the touch on his hub.

“More of what?” Blast Off asked, voice still not affected by any of this which made everything even better.

Vortex uttered another gargled sound of pleasure but couldn’t form words when the shuttle squeezed harder around the hub.

“More of this?” Mechanisms budged under Blast Off’s tight grip, under fingers reaching deep between gears and brackets and everything that made Vortex’ rotor hub. The swashplate bent, giving a nasty squeal that mingled with Vortex’ moan.

Vortex bucked hard, a mix of pain and pleasure causing another restlessness that was more welcome as charge increased. His hands rose, intending to clutch at Blast Off’s arm that kept him pressed tight against the shuttle’s frame.

“Don’t,” Blast Off growled.

Vortex’ hands stopped mid-air, flexing, sparks crackling on the damaged fingers. “ _Please_ ,” was all Vortex could reply, and only earnt a deep rev of the other’s engine.

“No touching.”

The ‘copter whimpered, his arms sinking down, fingers scratching at his own thighs instead.

“Open.”

The single word increased the trembling along Vortex’ frame, and before he could bemoan the loss of the tight grip around his rotor hub, Blast Off clicked his connector in.

It was a one-way connection, but it wasn’t any less intense when alpha coding broke through Vortex’ firewalls and took over his sensor net. A flood engulfed him, pain stinging like needles on every part of his plating, and heat Vortex’ body wouldn’t have been able to endure had it been real.

He screamed, but his vocaliser only produced static, leaving his mouth hanging open in silent torment.

Warnings flashed in his HUD, red flickering words that made no sense to him when coherency was washed away.

Behind him stood Blast Off, steady, unmoving, engine still sending tremors through Vortex, that overbearing field pushing against his, keeping it from reaching the shuttle. And it all escalated as the charge kept climbing, increasing with every surge or pain and pleasure, every scrape of sensitive sensors that Blast Off had tuned to register everything.

The hand was back on Vortex’ hub, again squeezing, the hurt only one of many.

There was a soft chuckle from Blast Off, something that registered at the back of Vortex’ processor as something significant. He had no way off clinging to it, not when the shuttle turned his rotors hub into the direction where it wasn’t meant to work.

Vortex’ optics brightened, visor flashing and vocaliser giving in. Mechanisms broke when Blast Off turned them easily, metal screeched, and the anguish of tortured systems tore through every other sensation. Current flowed back and forth, was cut and increased when everything mingled to that blissful, promised moment or raw pleasure.

Vortex twitched in Blast Off’s grip, and was no longer awake to feel himself coming down from the peak.

\---

Vortex came to his senses lying on his front on the berth. He was dizzy in the best way, and his rotors quivered from the remaining buzz of charge and pain.

“Hmm…” he mumbled, and didn’t want to online his optics. But something plucked at his hand and he was too nosy not to.

“Feeling better?” Blast Off asked, his tone back to the usual blankness. He sat on the edge of the berth, half turned towards the ‘copter while he picked fragments of the energon cube out of Vortex’ hand. The tweezers looked so small between the shuttle’s fingers.

“Yeah…” Vortex grinned. He was still tired, but when he checked his chronometer, he saw he hadn’t even been out for a breem. He still needed a long recharge and defrag. But it wasn’t urgent. Blast Off had said they’d stay two nights, and that was plenty of time. It wouldn’t hurt if he watched Blast Off for a little while longer.

The shuttle was warm, it was noticeable even from the distance, and Vortex knew he hadn’t overloaded. He could have if he’d plugged Vortex’ connector in, but apparently he hadn’t wanted to. It wasn’t the first time, and Vortex had learnt not to mention it. It didn’t stop him from wondering.

“And we’re staying tomorrow?” Vortex muttered half against the berth’s covering.

“We’ll take off the day after tomorrow, yes.” Blast Off nodded briefly. Giving Vortex hand another intense look, until he approved of his work and let it go. “Onslaught said you can take a day off.” Blast Off stood up. Walking somewhere where Vortex couldn’t see him. He was too lazy to move his head.

“And what will you do?” Vortex tried to shuffle his rotors, the gesture giving an obvious hint about how he’d like to spend the day. But the mechanisms in his hub were broken, and all he managed was a brief flick. He was rewarded with a sharp pain on sore sensors that triggered a pleasant shiver and saturated sigh.

Blast Off came back with a cloth, wiping his hands clean. “I’m going to get a few people fired.” He settled back on the berth, reaching for Vortex’ hub with the cloth.

Vortex shuddered at the touch. It wasn’t gentle, but careful not to cause any more damage as the shuttle cleaned it from dried energon.

“Sounds like fun. Can I watch?” They would still have time for some other fun, wouldn’t they?

“If you want to get up early, I can wake you up.”

Vortex grinned. “You really want to ruin their life.” It meant something if Blast Off didn’t make use of the opportunity to lie in.

Blast Off huffed, but didn’t reply. He finished cleaning the rotor hub, and put the cloth on the nightstand.

“If you’re fragged off they found out you have a military kink, I could get rid of them, you know. I mean, permanently.”

At that Blast Off shot Vortex a look. “I don’t have a military kink. And I don’t have a rotary kink, either” he said, the blankness making room for annoyance. Vortex raised an optical ridge.

He hadn’t said anything about a rotary kink… interesting.

“And no killing people. Not in Altihex.”

“I could kill them when they’re somewhere else?” Vortex offered, and shifted slightly.

“I don’t care. Ask Onslaught.” Blast Off gave a one-sided shrug. “Now make some room.”

It was an effort for Vortex to shuffle, or at least to pretend to do so when he didn’t want to give the other too much space. Blast Off was warm.

A discontented growl told Vortex that the shuttle knew what he was doing, or rather not doing, but he didn’t mind. And Blast Off didn’t seem to mind either when he lay down close to the ‘copter.

“You need to get your rotor hub and hand checked before we go off-planet,” Blast Off said once he’d stopped moving. “There’s a repair shop down in the hotel. Ask for Eclipse, she’ll give you a discount.”

Discount meant discount, not free, Vortex thought. Frag. “I don’t wanna pay for damage you caused,” he said with only half fake irritation. He’d be so broke once they checked out.

“You were the one who asked for more.” Blast Off puffed another huff from his vents. “Besides, you said you wanted to pay this time. I’m just respecting your wishes.”

Vortex grumbled a curse. “You’re mean.”

“I am.”

Blast Off sounded way too pleased for Vortex likings. Even the shuttle’s energy field flared in amusement.

Vortex kept quiet for over a klik, fatigue almost taking over while he waited for Blast Off to relax.

“So,” he said when as much of the tension as possible had left Blast Off’s frame, “a rotary kink, eh?”

The other’s engine revved and even though Vortex’ optics were offline, he sensed him going stiff again. “Shut up,” the shuttle growled, kicking the ‘copter, although not as hard as he could have.

Vortex giggled, and shuffled closer to Blast Off.


End file.
